In the home of the Chimas, after Chioma finished dinner, she headed for the small bathroom for a refreshing bath. A single bare bulb hung from the low ceiling, casting a dim glow. With a practiced flick of her wrist, Chioma lit the kerosene lamp on the rickety shelf and placed it on a hook in the bathroom. Its warm yellow light filled the room, chasing away the shadows. Comforting steam, infused with the gentle scent of lavender soap, billowed upwards, momentarily obscuring the bulb. The soothing scent lingered in the air as Chioma scooped water from a large plastic basin into a smaller metal bucket. Pouring it over her body, she thoroughly washed with soap and sponge, each stroke easing away the day's stresses.
Emerging from behind a makeshift curtain, her damp hair clung to her face. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips as she ran a hand through it. The warm water had melted the aches from her muscles, leaving her pleasantly relaxed. Wrapping herself in a worn but clean towel, she headed for the bedroom. With heavy eyelids, she quickly shed the towel and slipped into a floral nightdress. The soft fabric felt like a gentle caress against her skin.
Louisa, engrossed in her knitting and bathed in the soft lamplight, glanced up as Chioma crawled into bed. A frown creased her brow as she noticed the damp strands clinging to her daughter's head. Pausing her knitting, she let out a sigh.
'Chioma, your hair is still wet. Get up,' Louisa insisted.
'Mum, it will dry slowly as I sleep,' Chioma replied with a yawn.
'No, you'll get sick,' Louisa insisted.
'Africans are used to sleeping with wet hair...forget it, Mum. It'll dry by tomorrow, okay?' Chioma shrugged.
Ignoring Chioma's mumbled protest, Louisa set down her knitting and approached the bed. Her hands, gentle yet firm, reached out and pulled the protesting figure from beneath the covers. The hairdryer she had bought recently from a thrift store buzzed to life in her grasp as she began to meticulously dry each strand of Chioma's hair.
'Never forget, Chioma,' Louisa's voice held a note of concern, 'wet hair leads to illness.'
Chioma, with a playful glint in her eyes, countered, 'But mum, there are things Africans are immune to. Like sleeping with wet hair, open defecation, eating with our hands, picking your nose, playing in the sand...'
'Oh, stop...' Louisa sighed.
'Why should I stop?' Chioma looked at her mother with a mischievous smile.
'I thought you were smarter than this,' Louisa mumbled quietly.
'Of course, I'm the smartest,' Chioma said, planting a kiss on Louisa's cheek before settling back into bed.
The following morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air as Chioma joined her mother and brother for breakfast. Akara and akamu, traditional Nigerian delicacies, sat alongside the bread, a simple yet satisfying start to the day. Energised by the hearty meal, Chioma prepared to embark on her Friday activities. She bid farewell to her family and set off for Star Restaurant, ready to tackle the day ahead.
She was dressed in a white T-shirt, a red coat, and long black trousers. It wasn't a luxury brand, but the outfit exuded liveliness. The most important thing about clothes was wearing something that suited you, regardless of how affordable it may be. Chioma looked every bit like a university student in her attire. She would change into her uniform once she arrived at the restaurant.
Star Restaurant was popularly known for being frequented by lower-income individuals. However, recently, it seemed as though heaven had opened its doors to welcome wealthier patrons as well, particularly after Michael was spotted there. In response, Emeka hired additional waitresses, which eased the burden on Chioma and Chisom. The restaurant was now flourishing more than ever, and Emeka believed that Chioma's presence had brought good luck.
'Hey, come here,' Julia called out to Chioma as she arrived with her friends. Julia and her friends were dressed in revealing outfits.
'What would you like to order?' Chioma didn't want to waste time with the girls, so she got straight to the point.
'You're acting like you own the world,' Julia said with a frown.
'Yeah, I'm glad you noticed,' Chioma replied nonchalantly.
A scoff escaped Julia's lips. 'You don't deserve Michael.'
'I do, because he chose me,' Chioma replied confidently.
Julia's retort was laced with mockery. 'Really?' A burst of laughter erupted from her and her friends.
Chioma's brow furrowed in confusion. 'Why are you laughing? Did I pee in my pants or something? Did I miss something? Did I, like, trip and fall on my face or something?' she asked.
Emmanuella, one of Julia's companions, chimed in with a snide remark. 'It would have been better if you did. But hey, playing Cinderella with young master Michael is just embarrassing yourself. In the end, he'll choose the real princess, Jessica Nnaji.'
'Well, I am still the one he chose,' Chioma asserted. 'And Cinderella still ended up with the prince, and they live happily ever after.'
Julia's lips curled into a sneer. 'Maybe for now...' she scoffed, her eyes flashing with malice. 'But I wouldn't be surprised to see you lose everything one day. Girls like you are always on the losing side.'
Chioma met her gaze unflinchingly. 'Really? Well, if that's the case, thank you for the advice,' she replied, her voice laced with quiet dignity.
Ignoring the barb, Julia turned to Emmanuella, her voice dripping with false sympathy. 'Emmanuella, what happens to a boyfriend snatcher?'
'Sad ending,' Emmanuella chuckled in response.
Dana chimed in, her voice laced with spite. 'Chioma, I pity your family because they will suffer too.'
Julia threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the resturant. 'Dana, don't pity her. Rather, let's enjoy the show,' she said, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight, and Emmanuella and Dana burst into laughter.
Chioma's gaze swept over the table, taking in their triumphant smirks and mocking laughter. Her stomach churned, but she forced a smile, her voice firm as she addressed them. 'Is there anything else you want to talk about? If you're not ordering, I'll be attending to other customers.'
Julia's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. 'Move away,' she spat, her voice sharpening with irritation.
With a curt nod, Chioma turned and walked away, her head held high despite the sting of their words. As she retreated, a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Stanley, his gaze filled with concern.
'Miss Chioma,' he began hesitantly, 'you may encounter a lot of problems... Maybe you need my number?'
'Why?' Chioma asked, feeling confused. Was he genuinely concerned about her or just looking for an opportunity to strike up a conversation?
Stanley shrugged. 'You might need a police officer.' He handed Chioma his mobile phone. 'Give me your phone number... Perhaps, it will serve as a call for help. You can also share your WhatsApp contact.'
They exchanged phone numbers, and Chioma made her way to the counter. She felt a sense of confusion at that moment. Why would she need a police officer? Nevertheless, Stanley was now her friend, and there was no harm in him having her phone number and WhatsApp contact.